First flight
by chloemcg
Summary: One-shot. Spyro and Cynder's only child, Ivor, is about to try and fly on his own for the very first time but Spyro will have to dredge up some painful memories if he wants to help his son in the present.


**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of The Legend Of Spyro...but I DO own Ivor, my fanchild for both Spyro and Cynder.**

**First flight**

* * *

It was an early crisp morning.

The sun was just beginning to make its glorious ascension over the hills and into the skies. The sky was a beautiful peach/pale blue/light pink/ purple colouration and clouds were just beginning to materialise out of nowhere whilst the stars that lingered were fading into obscurity.

There was a thick layer of frost coating the grass that covered the meadow, the grass was a pale blue/green/teal colour as a result of the heavy coat of frost caking every part of foliage in the area. Also in the meadow there were birch trees, naked and without leafs, a pine tree and even the occasional weeping willow here and there.

There was a breeze as soft as a gentle caress, the wind whispered through the air.

Spyro, Cynder and their only son, Ivor, all stood on the edge of a craggy peak that overlooked the meadow and they all watched over the gorgeous scenery with misty-eyed gazes. The purple dragon, black dragon and white dragon whelp all stood on a craggy ledge just outside of some uninhabited cavern, it was a sturdy ledge and one could easily make an attempt to leap off and take to the air without much difficulty whatsoever.

The heat of the rising sun from the distance felt so warm on their scales.

They loved feeling the warmth of the morning sun on their bodies.

It felt nice and calming.

Seeing the rise of the morning sun along with accepting the big change that was about to occur had imbued both Spyro and Cynder with a sense of reminiscent sentimentality.

Spyro and Cynder both glanced down at their young adolescent whelp.

The small white dragon had grown quite a bit since he hatched from his egg, he had grown into a fine young adult but was positively dwarfed compared to the large size of his parents. He was a rather sleek and slender youngling when it came to his physique but had rather oversized wings that were larger than most dragons his age.

As Ivor had only just become the same age as when Spyro had begun his journey all those years ago, Spyro and Cynder had decided it was time for the next step of their roles as parents:

The time had come for their son to learn how to fly on his own.

According to the guardians —Volteer, Cyril and Terrador— it was custom for most dragons to begin to fly in their late whelp-hood. The reason for this is because a whelp's wings only just get strong enough to endure the weight of the dragon who owned them and were dense enough to cope with the mere concept of flight when they were just on the cusp of becoming adolescents.

Spyro and Cynder were both anxious about their son officially becoming a fledgling after being referred to as a whelp.

When that realisation hit home, it was especially hard for Cynder.

The black-scaled dragoness felt a single tear ooze out from one of her eyes and start to trail down her cheek as she leaned into Spyro's golden-plated chest. She sniffled softly whilst she felt her mate gave her a gentle nuzzle of affection and wiped her tear away with one of the hooks on his wings. She felt comforted in her lover's embrace and while she wasn't crying out of sadness, she did feel her heart ache a tad.

Spyro sympathised with the dragoness easily.

Neither of them felt ready to acknowledge that their only son as growing up.

It took a minute or so before Cynder could finally get a handle of her emotions and recompose herself yet that was when she glanced down and noticed that the young white dragon was showing signs of anxiety.

Ivor glanced over his shoulders to have a look at his wings and an anxious look befell his facial expression.

"...Sweetie, are you feeling okay?" The dragoness inquired.

She could sense her only son's fear, after all fear was one of her abilities. She looked down at him and proceeded to start nuzzling him with her snout with as much affection as she could put into one gesture. Her eyes were as soft as pillows but her stature was as strong and as confident as ever.

Ivor lowered his head and hung it low, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm...I'm fine, mum, just nervous." He muttered.

Cynder looked over at Spyro and they both frowned since they could hear their whelp's voice tremble from fear.

They weren't too surprised to hear the young white dragon was feeling anxious about taking such a dramatic step towards being a full-grown adult, it was understandable that he'd feel some worry over taking his first flight...but Ivor was _their _son and both Spyro and Cynder were more than confident that he could do this.

Ivor's body trembled and quivered violently.

Cynder craned her neck, lowering her head so it was at level to Ivor's, and licked the side of her whelp's face; her tongue dragged up the side of the white dragon adolescent's face, causing said white dragon adolescent to grimace in a mixture of embarrassment and disgust.

"Don't be. You're gonna be just fine,"

"Ugh, mum...!"

Cynder grinned softly at her son's reaction to her motherly affection.

Spyro, meanwhile, remained silent.

He was reminded on how his first flight attempt went —how Ignitus was there and had mentored him on what he needed to do, on how he needed to fly for the very first time. He felt a pang of nostalgia hit him hard like a smack to the face, he couldn't help but blink back tears and his heart quivered.

He missed Ignitus...

The fire dragon guardian was the first dragon he had ever met, soon after leaving the only home he knew, and was the one who had taught him what it truly meant to be a dragon (and a purple one at that!) and mentored him all about his normal heritage; in simple terms, Ignitus was like a second father to him. The adult purple dragon desperately wished that Ignitus could have been here right now, to see him as a father and no longer that young whelp who had been raised as a Dragon fly his whole life.

Nostalgia hit him hard, it felt like a knife plunging in his heart.

Part of him wanted to cry but he decided to try and avoid it as it was supposed to be a happy occasion.

As though sensing her mate's sudden sadness of missing his old father/mentor figure, Cynder enfolded a comforting wing around him to reassure him.

Spyro, in turn, leaned his head towards her and buried his head into the crook of her long neck.

After waiting a few moments of receiving some of Cynder's comfort, the purple dragon pried himself away from her. After he peeled himself from the black dragoness, he glanced down at the nervous young dragon staring out at the view in front of them. It was then that Spyro stepped forwards, standing beside the anxious young dragon and dwelled over this for a minute.

Spyro wracked his brains as he thought about what he should do.

He hardly knew how to fly when he began so he knew little to nothing about actually teaching someone else...but the realisation dawned on him when he remembered the exact words that Ignitus had spoken to him during his very own crucial flight test.

He exhumed a heavy sigh through his nostrils, thinking deeply for a few moments.

He kept his eyes on the sun as he started to utter the words he recalled.

"Close your eyes, take a deep breath and empty your mind..."

Ivor closed his eyes whilst listening to _every _word uttered by his dad. He did, indeed, feel this strange yet foreign warmth flow through his body. He couldn't explain what he was feeling, exactly, but it felt...mystical in a way. He couldn't explain it; it felt like this sensation had been waiting for him to start trying to fly, like he was unlocking this great power within him.

"Yeah...yeah, that's it, son!"

Spyro felt a huge smile spread across his shovel-shaped muzzle as he spoke the exact instructions that Ignitus had told him, pride started to surge through his chest.

"Feel the ancestors power coursing through your body because, whenever you need them, they'll guide and teach you when you need them most. They'll guide you through hard times and maybe help you unlock abilities you didn't even know you had."

"Think about everything you have ever known and forget it, forget yourself because only when you forget will you remember what your ancient blood already knows."

Ivor, still with his eyes closed, spread both of his wings out to the sides and his claws unsheathed themselves and dug into the stone beneath them. His heart pounded against his crimson underbelly and his nostrils drew in and drew out lengthy breaths. He kept his mind as clear as a well-polished gem and he kept his focus attained on his goal of the morning.

This goal was not only essential for the next stage of how a dragon was supposed to live life and he _needed _to do this.

"You can fly."

Ivor felt his wings automatically move themselves up and down.

Faster and faster they flapped until he opened both eyes as he suddenly realised his feet were no longer touching the ground.

All four of his feet slipped and slid about for a second as he tried to acclimate to the fact that he was hovering in the air while his amethyst eyes fell on the ground just a good few inches below him. His jaw dropped in disbelief and a wide smile spread across his muzzle, clearly communicating the joy he felt.

He was flying.

He was flying!

HE WAS FLYING!

He couldn't even believe it, he didn't dare think about it being a reality until now, but he was flying!

Ivor couldn't resist a cry of triumph as he dashed forwards while still airborne.

He decided to ascend higher towards the sky, the white dragon felt the wind catch beneath his wings as he (and his spirit) soared. His heart was galloping at a steady pace and the cold blood in his veins rushed through his body; his flapped his wings hard and he made sure to keep his wings properly-banked to keep momentum while in the air.

His wings carried him as he glided in a graceful featherlight manner.

In the meantime, the boy's parents watched on.

Spyro and Cynder couldn't have felt prouder for that moment.

Their hearts swelled in their chests, huge smiles spread across their muzzles and their eyes watered with emotion; their son...their _only _and _blessed _son had just learned how to fly. How could they feel any prouder than they possibly could? Their throats closed up and the tears began to flow down their muzzles. Regardless, that didn't stop them from fretting over their only son's safety regarding their now-flying son.

Cynder especially.

"Ivor, sweetie! Be careful not to fly too high!" The black dragoness called up to the youngling, her voice carrying an undercurrent of motherly concern.

Ivor felt so free but didn't hear his mother.

He never thought that flying would make him feel so good. The wind currents caught on his wings, his eyes were narrowed a huge smile spread across his muzzle as he soared across the beautiful meadow glades. He could see his own shadow below him and he felt the warmth of the rising sun on his chalk white scales, it felt so nice and he closed his eyes as he let out a sigh of contentment before resuming his flight around the area with his parents watching him from below.

He flew higher and higher, his wings carrying him as he continuously shifted from flapping his wings to ascend to a higher height to simply gliding along the air with both spread-out wings catching drifts and leaving faint cloud trails behind them.

There was clear excitement on his face...but it vanished quickly when he started to have difficulties.

His eyes widened when his wings seemed to stall and he plummeted towards the ground fast, literally spiralling out of control as he started to fall towards the luscious grass awaiting his face to meet it down below. The air sucked out of his lungs as he quickly hit the ground hard, a dizzying feeling overcoming him. His face got covered in muck and dirt when he lifted himself out of the dirt that covered the ground.

Dark brown splotches covered his body, the marks being all the more obvious thanks to his ivory-coloured pelt.

He frowned and scowled to himself.

Both Spyro and Cynder had watched their son's tumble from the ledge.

They both frowned and looked at one another, both feeling a rush of embarrassment when they had come to realise that, in the midst of all the excitement, they completely forgot to tell Ivor about the importance of landing.

The adult purple dragon chuckled as he shrugged his shoulder blades lamely, shaking his head at his mate as he stared into her blunted glare —it was a glare that practically read "Seriously?" as she raised an eye ridge at him and tapped her right front claw against the ledge impatiently, as though she were a parent about to give a lecture.

Spyro was sure if it was even possible for dragons to sweat, he would have been doing so right at that moment...profusely.

"I...I guess now we have to teach him how to land."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this fic, it has been awhile since I made a Spyro story and I hope you lot have had fun reading it.**

**Have a nice evening and please don't forget to review and fave!**

**-Chloemcg **


End file.
